


Lost

by McLavellan



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Lingerie, M/M, cross dressing, lost bets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-05 11:13:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16366802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McLavellan/pseuds/McLavellan
Summary: Cullen has lost a bet. Dorian thinks he's thought up the best sort of hell for him. But it's hell for reasons Dorian is completely unaware of.





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cullenlovesmen (handersmyheart)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handersmyheart/gifts).



> Bi!Cullen, unbeknownst to Dorian. With added Lingerie Kink.
> 
> All because of and for: Cullenlovesmen

“Y-you cheated,” Cullen protested. “Maker. You must have. Please tell me you cheated.”

With mock hurt, Dorian held a hand to his chest. “I absolutely did-” Just as Cullen’s shoulders relaxed, he threw in ‘not’. “I won fair and square, Commander. And you, being such a man of your word, are now at  _ my _ command. But don't you worry. I won't embarrass you. Too much.”

Cullen shook his head and protested. It was a silly bet. They’d been drunk when it was made. In fact, it was  _ Varric’s fault _ and the poisonous little bastard want even a part of this now. 

He looked at the chessboard again, tried to memorise the moves, find the trick. There had to be a trick… please. Let there be a trick. 

“ _I won fair and square_ , Cullen. Meet me in my quarters at dawn. Goodnight for now.” Dorian stood and blew the commander a kiss before sauntering away with a grin. 

* * *

“Cullen. Are you alright? You look…. Uncomfortable.”

Trust Leliana to notice. And now Josephine and the Inquisitor were looking at him curiously. 

“I'm absolutely fine,” he blushed. “Just… It’s a little stuffy in here. If we're done?”

The inquisitor released them all and Cullen sped to the library and called Dorian's name. “A word?”

“My, my commander,” Dorian purred, leaning over the banister. “You look a little flustered.”

“I've just been in a meeting. I need your….. Help. Regarding something from Tevinter.” He stormed off before Dorian could prolong the torture and was relieved when the mage entered his office a moment after him.

“Dorian. I need to take it off.”

“Nonsense,” the man smiled, softly. “You look so good in it.”

“Nobody can see it.”

“No. But  _ I _ saw it.  _ You _ know what you're wearing under than uniform. It's  _ our _ dirty little secret….” He accentuated the pronouns with such sweet and intimate emphasis that Cullen felt like a virgin all over again.

Cullen made a forlorn sound and looked to Dorian desperately, until the man relented with his usual mix of annoyed sympathy.

“I'll loosen it. But that’s all you're getting. Turn around.”

Cullen turned and shed his armour down to the Tevinter corset, and braced his hands on the desk. Dorian's fingers worked swiftly and he felt his ribs open a little, his lungs expanding. And then they seemed to shrivel up again as his trousers were pulled down. 

“Hush,” Dorian singsonged. “Just making sure you kept up with the whole bet.” His fingers tugged at the silk undergarments and trailed down to the garter holding up the stockings. “Good boy.” In an all too swift movement, he pulled the trousers up, slapped Cullen's buttocks and made a swift escape. 

Cullen pulled his undershirt on and sat at his desk, head in hands, thinking all too much about Dorian's touch. And wondering how much time he had to deal with his erection before he'd be disturbed. 


	2. Released

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because why let it rest when you can add more to a silly little idea?
> 
> And Cullenlovesmen is.... whatever the Thedosian version of the devil is. Archdemon?

It had been the longest day in the Dragon Age and possibly every other age. Full of interruptions, naturally. By the time the sun had set and all work was done, Cullen had become quite used to the contraptions set upon him by their local Evil Magister. Altus though he may be in actuality. Even that word had a dirty little edge to it. Or was it just his imagination?  Either way, Cullen wanted to eat and drink and he didn't think the corset was going to be a agreeable to the amounts he required. 

He tried the tavern first. This late in the day, Dorian could usually be found in some dark corner or, if The Iron Bull had wheedled him out, in the centre of the lower floor, flustered and angry. But tonight, he wasn't there. Cullen cursed under his breath and took the stone steps back up to the ramparts, through his office, and to the library. 

“Dorian?”

Solas cleared his throat to catch Cullen's attention and shook his head. 

“For the love of the maker,” Cullen growled, “where is he?”

He was not in the Grand Hall. Or the courtyard. Or with Varric. 

“Try his room,” the dwarf offered. “He's stashed away half the contents of a tavern. He'll be there if he's strapped for cash.”

Cullen realised he had no idea where Dorian even roomed. Luckily, Varric did. He only questioned that briefly before remembering the Dwarf knew everything. With a glance back, he hoped that wasn’t true. Not  _ everything _ .

For whatever reason, perhaps he was blinded by hunger, he didn't even think to knock. So when he caught Dorian half naked with a loose corset around himself, he felt utterly to blame and stuttered out an apology. 

“Kaffas! Don't Fereldans know to knock?”

“I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking straight I-” He paused, un-averting his eyes, and frowned at Dorian so deeply it verged on a scowl. “Why are  _ you _ wearing one?”

Dorian was stood with more modesty than Cullen had ever witnessed from him. In that he kept the corset held to himself for the little cover it offered. His undergarments were small and silk like the those that Cullen was made to wear. 

“Do you…  _ like _ this?” He regretted his tone immediately when Dorian turned his gaze away, flushing a deep red under his tan cheeks. “I - mean…”

“Oh don't pretend that it doesn't make you feel pretty,” Dorian tried to joke. “What exactly was it you wanted?”

Cullen, dumbfounded, stepped in and closed the door behind him. “I'm not sure if pretty is the word but….. There is something to be said for it.” He told himself that it was only the guilt of making Dorian uncomfortable that made him confess. 

Dorian's expression still turned hard and he rolled his eyes. “Tease all you want, Cullen. What did you need?”

“I'm not. I just… Sorry. I wanted to eat and while I'm sure Tevinter engineering is at its finest even with garments, I don't want to test it tonight.”

Dorian's expression had softened with the apology but was still wary. He lifted a hand and gave it a flourish, wordlessly commanding Cullen to turn round. He did so, removing his armor once more. 

“You just get me out of this, and I’ll get you in yours?” he offered with a gentle laugh.

Dorian stopped what he was doing for a moment. “Cullen.”

“Dorian, please. Its fine. I… get it. I think. And you look like you need an extra pair of hands. Just. Please…. Get this thing off of me so I can eat?”

He was sure he heard something akin to a laugh as Dorian went back to it, pulling the thing away as Cullen gasped in a deep breath, finally feeling his lungs full and his body relaxed. “Maker, if you wear it only for that feeling, it makes all the sense in the world.”

This time Dorian definitely laughed. “It is quite….freeing isn't it. Both in and out of one.”

Cullen, not knowing what to say, dressed himself and then turned Dorian and started to help. It didn't take long before he was cursing, frustrated. “How do you do it so quickly?”

“Practice,” came the reply, followed by instructions. “ _Tighter_.”

/ “Maker.”

Dorian grunted and Cullen remembered his need to see to himself. It had temporarily been replaced by the need for food, but that sound…. The sight of smooth dark skin, a tiny, man-made waist, and silk….. Cullen pretended to struggle with the final fixings, giving himself time to cool down. 

“So,” he asked, “Why give this to me as punishment if it's something you like so much?”

Dorian shrugged, pulling Cullen's gaze back to the bare flesh of his shoulders again. “Not everybody has the same tastes as me. And I thought it would fluster you and amuse me, with no real harm done. I hope?”

“Perhaps a little to my understanding of myself. But otherwise, no. No harm done.”

Dorian turned, cautiously. “Did you really… Not mind it?”

Cullen, seeing he'd backed himself into this corner, sat in a chair and shrugged. “It was a little…exciting I suppose. Having a harmless secret. But it's so damned restrictive."

“The corset?”

Cullen, confused, said yes and felt his heart stop at the slow grin forming on Dorian's lips. 

“And the rest?”

Fully red now, Cullen looked away with another shrug. “I forgot about those.”

“Did you really. And how do you feel about them right this moment?”

They made eye contact and Cullen was able to hold it. “Good. But still incredibly hungry.” He stood. “Is it all yours? The corset and… I'll return the rest later. If that's OK. Once I've eaten.”

He made his escape.


	3. Gifted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama?! Right in front of MY kink fic?!

What little he remembered of his mother was held in the words “Always be kind”. It had been, according to her, the most important thing in the eyes of the maker and, indeed, outside of the Chantry. It was what made the world a better place. He'd learnt, of course, kindness is not always applicable or appropriate in every situation, but the world still needed more of it and he was loathe to be unkind to those he cared about. Which is why, all the way to the kitchens, he berated himself for his behaviour in front of Dorian. For stumbling and muttering and rushing out. Dorian, however much he compensated for it with glowing confidence, needed friends just as much as Cullen. And Cullen had long figured they'd become such. To have it ruined by blundering about with his own insecurities made him angry with himself and sorry for the man. That, he told himself, was why he was standing outside Dorian's room with a basket of food. He kicked the door with his foot in way of a knock. 

There was no reply. But there was candlelight flickering through a gap in the frame. 

“Dorian? It's just me…”

It was only when he let out a breath and relaxed that he realised he'd been tense. The footsteps stopped and the door opened a crack.

“You really didn't have to rush them back, Cullen. They were washed, I assure you.”

The commander blushed, heavily, and awkwardly lifted the basket to draw Dorian's attention. “I realised I never asked if you were hungry. Not that you can eat much with that thing on.”

“I can do plenty,” Dorian said, opening the door with a curious look. “Come on in. Oh and… well done for knocking. Much appreciated.”

Dorian was in loose robes of a sheer material, showing off everything that was underneath. Not that there was much besides beautiful, smooth looking skin. He gestured Cullen to the small table and watched, head tilted as though seeing something for the first time. 

“I don't have any ulterior motives,” Cullen assured him, with a smile. 

“Shame,” replied the return of Dorian's usual cockiness as he sat on the other seat. It was awkward for a moment until Dorian picked through the basket, criticising Cullen's choices but digging in anyway. He stopped and furrowed his brows at something, pulling it out and inspecting it. 

“Oh that's a-”

“Peeled grape,” Dorian finished. 

“The Iron Bull asked if you'd spoken to Josephine yet about getting some peeled for you.”

“The ass.”

“Actually. It's The Iron Bovine, not The Iron Asini- no. Sorry.”

Dorian laughed. It was a magnificent sound that Cullen was always surprised and delighted to hear. It was catching when it was genuine and nearly always followed a lousy joke. 

“Really, you two belong together.”

“Do we? Because… I’ve heard rumours….” Cullen smiled, as he saw a blush rise to Dorian’s cheeks.

“I’ve already called him an ass, what shall I call him now? Insufferable lummox works. He has absolutely no sense of shame or decency. He’s a spy, for love of the Maker. He’s supposed to be able to keep quiet?”

“So you two are serious?” Cullen asked, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Must be the ale, he thought. Or the tiredness. 

“Not even slightly. He’s just a fun mistake to make.”

 

* * *

 

“Inquisitor?” Cullen turned from the bookcase, snatching his hand behind his back to hide the shaking. 

 “We're just about ready to leave. You said you had a marked map?” The Inquisitor had that look of somebody who has noticed your little secret but has better manners than to speak of it. There was nothing really to speak about. Cassandra would watch him and he'd do his best not to give her reason to doubt his position as Commander. 

  “Ah, yes. It’s in h-ah!” He stared at the drawer, only half open, beautiful russet silk staring back at him. He snapped it shut. 

 “Cullen, what is it?” The Inquisitor panicked. 

 “N-nothing. A prank. From Sera, I imagine.”

 “Shall I have a word with her?” There was no missing the smirk.

 “No, no, I shall deal with her while you're gone. Unless you're taking her?” He prayed to the Maker that the girl was staying….. If she were to be blamed for something she didn't do, she'd most definitely investigate. And with Dorian already teasing him, his life would never be peaceful again. 

 He felt a thousand blessings at the shake of the Inquisitor's head. “Varric, Cass, and Solas.”

 “Have fun with that,” Cullen chuckled, swiftly retrieving the map from under the garments. He held it out and bid the Inquisitor good luck.

Cullen avoided the drawer for as long as he could. Not too difficult with the constant stream of visitors. So, as his lunch was brought to him, he locked his doors and sat at his desk. 

 He opened the drawer again. Red silk, gold trim. His hands were still shaking as he reached out and stroked it, but seemed to still somewhat at the new focus. It felt magnificent. Expensive. Worth more than all his usual clothes put together. He lifted it out and a slip of paper cascaded down to the floor. 

_ Keep these, should you wish. You might find the camisole more pleasing.  _

 “Camisole?” Cullen questioned out loud, holding up the silk top. Gold thread lining it at the top, gold lace at the bottom. There were the silk underpants, garter, and stockings to match. Each piece as exquisite as the last. 

 While a part of him regretted admitting to his enjoyment, he was at least relieved he'd not offended Dorian and caused the man to dislike him. 

 A knock at the door shattered the peace and he stuffed everything into the drawer, cringing, at his lack of care, and stood to answer it. It was lunch. Nobody should be disturbing him. But there was a strange pit of hope in his chest that it was Dorian, as if summoned by Cullen's embarrassment. 

 “What is it now, Charter?” he sighed, seeing her.

 “Pleased to see you too, sir. I have a report for you.”

 He took it through the few inches he'd opened the door and returned to his lunch, once he'd locked the door again and folded the garments neatly. He should take them up to his room, but even having them tucked in a drawer felt superbly scandalous. He ate his lunch, fingered the lace trim once his hands were clean, and then forgot about the report until later that afternoon. 

 

* * *

 

 “Shit.”

Cullen stormed through the library, face like thunder, almost past Solas until….

 “Thank the Maker, you haven't left?”

 Solas stood straight and shook his head. “Dorian has taken my place. There are Venitori rumoured to be in the a-”

 “It's a-” Cullen cut himself off and lowered his voice. “It's a trap. I think. When did they leave?”

 “Shortly after the inquisitor came to you.”

Cullen bit back another curse and shouted up to Leliana. He knew he was barking, as his men liked to say, but Maker curse it, they'd sent the inquisitor into danger. Dorian too. His chest felt tight and he wished he could liken it to the corset. Wished it was caused by something other than dread. 

The war room felt empty with only Leliana and himself to fill it. 

 “We need to send someone after the Inquisitor.”

 “Not likely. Can you not hear the storm?” she asked, incredulously. 

 “It's just a little wind,” he growled, the sound nearly drowned out by it. He’d barely noticed the rest of the world since reading the report. Now, it howled, papers fluttered, beams creaked. “Maker’s mercy. How long before we can send word out?”

 Leliana shook her head. Orlais may claim Skyhold, but she was firmly in the path of erratic Ferelden weather. “What is this about?” 

 He could hear the annoyance in her voice. The thought that she, Spymaster of the Inquisition, had missed something important. Cullen put a hand up almost as if to appease her. 

 “There was something in the report. It suddenly made sense of some letters we retrieved from an enemy camp. I think we're sending the Inquisitor into another encampment. Bigger than we expected. They can't take it alone.”

 The rest of the day was spent planning, waiting for the weather to ease long enough to send word. But it wasn't letting up any time soon. 

Nor did it for the next five days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know anymore, guys.
> 
> What am I doing? What's the meaning of anything? 
> 
> Why doesn't Leliana spy on the goddamn weather? Was Bull telling her about Dorian's butt?
> 
> I don't know. Nobody does. This is Thedas. Get used to it.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, though :)


	4. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skyhold is cut off from the world and Cullen feels the pull of Lyrium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should probably be way more in depth, but I write this shit on my phone and then try to tidy it up and.... I'm also me. I'm sorry. I hope there's some enjoyment to be had, regardless!

The first night, Cullen spent making sure everything in Skyhold was secure and ordering his men to keep everyone calm and safe. Many had moved into the Halls and Atrium. The ramparts were nearly empty, only a few soldiers stationed in the towers and top rooms, including Cullen's office. He'd already packed his quarters up and dropped bedding down for the men. He knew he should stay with them, but the worry brought the desire for Lyrium which, in turn, brought night terrors. Not something he felt the soldiers needed to see from their Commander. It had already been decided that he would take one of the rooms of the missing party. Not the Inquisitors, however, that was set up as an infirmary, taking in those from the tents outside and any new patients from the storm. 

Cullen found himself, late that night, in the busier than usual tavern, drinking with Leliana and feeling utterly foolish for the comfortable, luxurious feel of the silk against his skin. About the excitement he'd felt putting it on only minutes before finally reading that damned report. His heart had beaten faster at the contemplation of confessing to Dorian that he was wearing it. And now, Dorian and the Inquisitor were out there in the rampant storm. If they had cleared it, they were likely heading straight into a trap. And Cullen had foolishly felt brave putting on silk bloody underwear. 

Tired as he was, he dreaded going to bed, knowing that only nightmares were waiting. His face was hot, his hands were cold and weak, his body craving lyrium. Under the table, he lifted his shirt a little to find the silk underneath, rubbing it between his fingers focusing on it and calming. 

“You need sleep, Cullen. As do I,” Leliana sighed as she stood. “Take Dorian's room. I know where he hides the key.” She smiled down at him, almost innocently, and told him of the top shelf in Dorian's library nook where he left the key so as not to lose it during missions. 

Cullen had never been up to Dorian's bookladen hideout before and wondered, briefly, if he'd ever be able to visit him here. Realising how morbid he was being, he collected the key and sat in the chair, cushions warped to Dorian's form, and watched the storm for a while. 

“Commander? Careful. Easy…..”

A hand was on his shoulder, grip firm. Looking up, he saw Solas, worried. 

“Sorry,” Cullen, gasped, waking up breathless and cold and damp. The storm was still raging, he must have been making quite some noise to attract attention. “Must have been a nightmare, sorry.” He pushed up from the chair, clutching the key in his sweaty palm, and rushing off. 

Screaming, burning, trapped, it had been the usual nightmares. He stood outside Dorian's room, letting the storm whip and beat his body, holding the stone walls with hands so cold they burned. 

He turned and, struggling, managed to unlock the door. He remembered the layout well enough to make his way in the dark, it was the mess that tripped him up. Literally. Stumbling and swearing, he found the bed and climbed under the covers, burying his face in the pillow and taking in a deep breath of Dorian, falling straight to sleep. 

While he'd slept well enough in Dorian's bed, he'd only gotten a few hours. Most of the night had been spent in the library troubling Solas with his nightmare. He told himself it wasn't unusual to have nightmares, that Solas wouldn't even think to pry. As such he was left tired and heavy in heart. And thinking about lyrium. Cassandra wasn't around to talk to, Varric wasn't about to distract him with tall tales, and Dorian… Well, Dorian, or the thought of him, distracted Cullen differently lately and, as of yesterday, negatively. Thoughts of him now settled only in worry for him. He listened to the wind howl and prayed they were all okay.

He eventually found something to do in the form of training his officers in strategy. They took an empty room and crammed inside, discussing maps and maneuvers until lunch. After lunch Cullen left them and checked on the soldiers taking refuge in the rooms along the ramparts, particularly his own. They'd managed to keep everything safe from the storm, though a board was placed above the ladder to his quarters to stop the rain coming down. Most things that risked damage lined the walls of the office and the men were making use of the bedding to take turns being on watch. He left them to it and called a meeting with Josephine and Leliana which ended with the three of them on a comfy sofa with stolen whisky and an impromptu nap. Cullen woke up from another nightmare to find Leliana's head on his shoulder and Josie's in his lap. He took a slow breath and closed his eyes, but sleep did not follow. Reluctantly, he woke the women as gently as he could and they bid their good night's before he went back to Dorian's room, tripping over only once.

Day three and he wanted so much to keep the silk, the reminder of Dorian, the comfort, on his person. But three days and nights was really quite enough. So he set tasks for his officers and dedicated some time to tidying Dorian's room. It suddenly felt invasive being there in the daylight, touching Dorian's things, but the man kept his quarters in no fit state. His nook, while not exactly tidy, had more organisation to it at least. This was just mayhem. He sorted though everything out in the open, folded and piled it. He found the corset he'd worn that day of the bet. Exactly where Dorian had deposited it that night. He put it on the side and then worried about maids, and opened a drawer. There was more silk. He touched it, black and silver…. It would look fantastic on Dorian…. Cullen took it out, holding it to his face in the hopes it smelled of the man. But it was clean, fresh. Replacing it with the corset, he got dressed again, putting the black camisole on under his uniform. He'd considered the underwear but that seemed even more inappropriate than borrowing what he already was. 

Two more days passed with cold sweats and dreams of lyrium by day, and the comfort of Dorian's room and silks by night. Once the storm passed he became more impatient, waiting for word. Leliana had her people ready to send crows the moment the storm stopped and it seemed unreasonable to Cullen that there had to be more waiting. At least now he could train with his men, the physical strain of it taking a little off of the addiction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit meh, that chapter, wasn't it?
> 
> The next one should be a bit nicer. And it's going to change the fic rating! Exciting times!


	5. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The storm has passed, will Dorian return?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, of course he does.

The horn sounded at midday. Cullen dropped his sword. While Skyhold was not unaccustomed to visitors, the storm surely would have delayed everyone. Before he'd even reached the gates he heard the cries of “The Inquisitor”, heard orders for healers and food and hot baths. Cullen had to fight his way through the growing crowd and the gates, rushing to the small group. He didn't notice the Inquisitor's mouth open, ready to speak, or sag of shoulders as Cullen rushed past.

“Dorian, you're bleeding,” he blurted out. The man was wet, and shivering, and so put out Cullen would have laughed any other day. He touched the man's shoulder. “Maker, are you alright?”

“No I'm not,” he hissed, voice thick and stuffy.

“There are healers on the way.” Cullen was suddenly aware he was being watched. “For all of you. How… How are the rest of you?”

“Cassandra has a broken arm,” the Inquisitor offered, “The rest of us are just…cold and a bit bruised.”

Cullen looked to to Cassandra and saw that she was holding a her arm, but looked about as stoic as usual.

“You look terrible,” she told him, and he knew what she meant, her eyes boring through him, staring directly at the broken man she knew him to be.

“Nothing I can't handle.”

His hand was back on Dorian's shoulder before he even realised what he was doing, and he led him along the bridge, back home.

Cullen could barely stand still during the debrief. There wasn't much of it, really, in the grand scheme. The inquisitors team had taken refuge in a shallow cave.

“Though not too shallow for giant spiders,” the Inquisitor shuddered. “They're what gave us most of the bruises. Cassandra got hit by a tree on the way to find shelter. No really. The wind pulled it from the ground and she lifted her arm to block it. Dorian got hit in the head when we started making our way back. It was a bird, don't tell him I told you. He was so embarrassed. It got flung through the air and just crashed right into him.”

Once Cullen had given the news of the potential trap and the war room meeting disbanded, Cullen found himself walking to Dorian's room. He still had belongings there that he ought to collect. Besides, he wanted to see how the man was. And apologise for wearing some of his finery… Including today's corset that had, as he'd hoped, kept him somewhat distracted from his other cravings.

He knocked. And again. And then opened the door, peering inside and instantly smiling. Dorian was sprawled on his front, just a towel around him, gently snoring. When Cullen dipped a finger in the bath water, it was still hot. He sat on the bed and ran a hand over a nasty looking bruise, heart almost stopping when Dorian shivered at his touch. He held himself still and Dorian simply snored again, Cullen relaxing as he did. There was no way of getting the Mage under the covers without the risk of waking him, so Cullen very gently tried to fold some of his limbs in and pull the sides of the sheets up. The bed had stopped smelling of Dorian two days ago… Cullen leant in, face almost touching the crook of Dorian's neck, and inhaled. Soap. Not quite the Dorian smell he was hoping for. His lips pressed the skin there, forehead meeting Dorian's damp hair. When his mind wandered to the discarded clothes, and the thought of holding them to his face, he realised he ought to go pray. Or anything, really, other than this. Whatever it was.

“Stop being weird,” he whispered to himself, getting up and collecting the belongings he'd left in the room. Once deposited back in his own quarters he became distracted by the usual tasks set upon him. The Chantry was forgotten, in fact, until he found himself lying in bed, wide awake. Most of Skyhold was sleeping, save those on night duties, and the small Chantry in the garden was empty. He sat on his feet and bowed his head, eyes closed, quietly reciting his favourite verses, begging protection for those he loved and more verses for clarity and forgiveness.

“How in the world do you remember all of that?”

Cullen heard himself squeak as he jumped out of his skin, turning to see Dorian, draped in a blanket and clutching elfroot.

“How long have you been stood there?”

“Since ‘Andraste forgive my weaknesses’,” Dorian smirked. “Mind if I join you?”

“No, please…” Cullen gestured. “Though I didn't take you for the religious type.”

Dorian laughed, sitting down. “I get that a lot. But just look at me. Perfection like this can't be some random accident.” Dorian, seeing Cullen wasn't sure what to make of the declaration, sighed. “I believe in the Maker and his Bride. I just hold no faith in the Chantry.”

“Well, I'm sure Andraste will be more inclined to listen to my prayers if they're for a believer.”

The smile left Dorian's eyes, if not his lips. “You prayed for me?”

Caught, Cullen stammered, trying to think quickly. “Of course. I prayed for all of you. Pray for all of us. Is that why you're here? I… I

I can go.”

Dorian shook his head fervently. “No, no. I saw you come in while I was stealing herbs from the garden, I thought I'd come see how you are. How are you?”

“Quite well,” Cullen laughed, softly.

Dorian raised an eyebrow at him and he gave in a little.

“I couldn't sleep. So I came to pray. Mostly for someone to, uh, release me from the corset.”

For a split second he got to glory in the scandalised look on Dorian's face. “Are you really wearing it? How did you get it in?”

“Practice. And determination.”

Dorian laughed, delightedly, and poked at Cullen's middle to confirm it. “I'm impressed!” He ruffled Cullen's hair, or at least tried to, looking at his hand in curious disgust. “What's in your hair?”

“All sorts of tricks an potions to tame it....Or try to.”

Dorian reached out and touched it again. “So the commander needs taming?”

“Sometimes,” Cullen said, the sound almost catching in his throat.

“What about now?” Dorian asked, lips brushing Cullen's suddenly.

And Cullen could have thought about it, weighed the consequences. But damn it all. He moved that hair's breadth, bringing their lips together. Dorian closed his arms around Cullen, wrapping them both in the blanket, and toppled him backwards, on top of him, kissing and caressing, their hips moving against once another. They seemed to need everything so much that they could do nothing but this. Fully clothed, cocks hard, rubbing against each other.

And then Dorian started to whisper things into his ear that made him burn inside. “I would have you in here. Your hands braced upon the breasts of the makers bride, crying your vows into the dust and cobwebs above us as I take you and make you mine and, oh, how we will worship one another.”

Cullen swore, mouthing Dorian's neck, legs wrapped around his waist. Dorian, even when desperately thrusting against him, kept all composure, his grunts deep like distant thunder almost making a mockery of Cullen's small sounds, weak legs, and desperation. He came shortly after, bringing a hand down and reaching into Dorian's trousers stroking his warm, hardened, cock until he followed suit. He swore again, easing himself back down on the cold ground, not letting go of Dorian.

“Looks like we both needed that,” the mage smiled, head against Cullen's chin.

"When do we get to do the rest?" Cullen sighed, satisfied for now.

Dorian seemed to tense in his arms. "What?"

Oh shit. Cullen panicked, he'd thought too much of this, expected things that weren't being offered. He was wearing the mans corset. "I-oh I just.. Nevermind."

Dorian looked up curiously at Cullen. "You want to? With me."

"... Well… Yes. Maker is that weird?" He was hot and red in the face, Dorian still lounging gracefully on top of him.

"No! A little for me, perhaps, but only because men like you, well, you just want a little fun. A distraction."

"Men like me?" Cullen asked.

"Good Chantry boys. Who like the feel of silk because they've never let themselves stray the straight and narrow path enough to experience a little luxury, so why not dip into something illicit before getting tied down to a dull and dutiful existence. You'll let me touch you and then you'll never look me in the eye again. I get it."

Cullen lifted Dorian off, to his knees as he sat up, frowning. "I want to do it. With you, specifically. You're not the first man, but you're… definitely the most interesting." He put a hand up to silence Dorian before he could ask any questions. "If I didn't suspect mother Giselle was inching her way closer to spy on us, I would let you have me just as you described. For now….. I need out of this corset. Elsewhere."

Dorian, trying to wipe the shock from his face with a show of confident smugness, said, "Are you inviting me back to your quarters? Or are you still quite taken with mine?"

"Sorry," he grimaced. "Mine were unsafe and I hadn't had time to sort it out before you got back…. How did you know it was me?"

Dorian shrugged. "It was tidy. And… Smelled of you…"

"You know my smell?"

Smiling as he stood, Dorian laughed. "I didn't realise until I woke up thinking of you."

Following him up, Cullen tidied himself as best as he could and pulled him in for a kiss. They stood for a moment, smiling at each other, trying to adjust to this new revelation.

"Cullen…. You remember that game of chess? With the bet?" Dorian asked, as they made their way out.

"Yes. I've never been quite so pleased with the outcome of losing, I must say."

Dorian hummed thoughtfully. “I cheated.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go. Done. And probably awful. I'll most likely keeping picking and editing.....


End file.
